


A Matter of (House) Pride

by bleedcolor, Likelightinglass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All's fair in love and war, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Severus Snape is a goddamn blind idiot, Smut, abuse of the house points system, but also FEELINGS, it's a good thing Harry has a little bit of sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 08:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedcolor/pseuds/bleedcolor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likelightinglass/pseuds/Likelightinglass
Summary: LikeLightInGlass:Question, do Severus and Harry award house points when the other one does something good in bed?bleedcolor:Oh My God. YES. THEY SURE AS HELL DO.





	A Matter of (House) Pride

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is exactly what it says on the tin. Enjoy!

It started simply, as these things so often do. Well, perhaps not too simply; Harry had been doing some _very_ complicated things with his tongue along Severus’ cock to begin with, and in the end, as he lay against the bed, hands clutching the sheets--desperately attempting to catch his breath--the words had just slipped out: “ _Twenty points to Gryffindor_.”

Harry's response had been uproarious laughter and then a smattering of kisses, so Severus assumed his embarrassing outburst would be simply ignored, forgotten, or never mentioned again--ideally some combination of the three.

But it was not to be. Unfortunately for Severus there was something about sex--frequent, _bone-melting_ sex--that loosened his tongue and his wits and allowed for the awarding of more points in one session of enthusiastic fucking with Harry than he’d ever awarded in his entire tenure as a Hogwarts professor. Which would have been bad enough, were Potter the type to allow him to forget it.

But what Severus had failed to consider was that Harry might begin awarding _him_ points. Apparently Severus had managed to develop a few skills of his own in his (unexpectedly frequent) liaisons with the man, and on one momentous occasion, a particularly enjoyable approach to the exploration of Harry's body utilizing fingers, tongue, and quite a bit of enthusiasm, led to Harry suddenly exclaiming _fifty points to Slytherin_ , and from that point on, it appeared that the game was on.

~

The game went something like this:

The wet heat of a tongue sliding down the length of his erection, gentle suction at his bollocks, and his own hitching breaths at the waves of pleasure suffusing his body.

“F-fifteen points to Gryffindor!” Harder suction and a teasing finger pressed inside of him. “Oh, _oh_ , do that--yes, _again_!”

Severus let out an entirely undignified moan as that finger inside of him nudged his prostate, sparks trailing their way through his vision, the sound something between a growl and a screech, and was surprised when that apparently earned him--

“Ten points to Slytherin,” Harry said with a teasing smile.

“For, for what?” Severus managed to gasp, still seeing stars.

Harry just bit his lower lip and winked, his eyes glinting with pleasure. “I like it when you’re loud.”

The noise he made in response to that little declaration, his cock twitching eagerly at the idea that he was pleasing Harry with his reactions, earned him another three points.

Try as he might, however, Severus couldn’t seem to wring the same sort of unrestrained responses from Harry as he seemed to be able to evince from Severus each time they came together, bodies tangled and twisting until they lie damp and sated against the sheets. He didn’t doubt that Harry enjoyed these encounters as much as he did, didn’t doubt the passion that brought them together, but he craved causing the other man to lose control almost as much as he craved the feel of their bodies pressing together.

Well, never one to back down from a challenge, Severus would just have to work a little harder at it, then. Luckily for both of them, he’d always been a rather diligent student, and particularly hard worker when any sort of gauntlet was thrown.

Rimming became a particularly enjoyable way for the two of them to spend an evening, the technique not difficult to perfect after a little practice. Severus became quite adept at adjusting a mix of teasing licks around the outside of the ring of muscle and plunging strokes of his tongue within to Harry’s preference. (“Ten..ah, ah, oh, Merlin, _twenty_ points to Slytherin.”) Severus loved having his tongue worked deep inside of Harry, and though he wasn’t nearly as vocal as Severus was during his turns on the receiving end, so to speak, Severus lived for the breathy groans and short, helpless thrusts of hips that signaled Harry was enjoying himself immensely. 

He gained more than a little pleasure himself, his tongue exploring Harry’s body--and not just the more erotic places, but trailing a wet path over the assortment of scars, some puckered and shiny, some flat and smooth, that had been gained over a handful of years in the Auror Corps. He awarded points then, too--though these he kept for himself. _Fifty points to Gryffindor for not allowing that knife to sever an artery. One hundred points for coming home safe._

~

It was surprising how easily Severus found himself awarding points and more surprising to realize that Harry Potter-- _Gryffindor extraordinaire_ \--was uncharacteristically miserly in returning the favor.

Severus first began to catch on to the...inconsistencies in their approach after a particularly mind melting kiss only awarded _a single point_ when similar activity had yielded him five the day before. 

"Mmmm, point to Slytherin." Harry sighed the words into his mouth before the kiss had even fully ended, a cold shock through Severus’ burgeoning arousal. 

"Poi--Point? One?" exclaimed Severus, pulling back in surprise. "Did you not just experience the same-- Well, we'll have to see about _that_ , Mister Potter."

Severus wasn't sure whether it was the fact that his mind was now addled with exposure to delights he had been almost entirely deprived of before his relationship with Harry, or just that he was losing his touch in general--increased exposure to Gryffindors was certain to have some ill-effect--, but it took him an appallingly long time to catch on to the fact that Harry was deliberately undervaluing his action to point ratio in order to...make him work harder? To keep him eager and interested? If it weren’t such a Slytherin undertaking Severus might have been insulted. As it was, he was more determined than ever to earn the rightful amount of points from his lover-turned-competition.

~

As time wore on, though, what had been an exciting way to add to their enjoyment in the bedroom (and a few other locations) quickly began to spill into less fun areas of life, such as laundry and dishes.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for being unable to locate the laundry hamper.”

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped his socks in the proper receptacle with an irritated sigh. “Well, ten points from Slytherin for finishing off the carton of strawberry ice cream before I could get to it.”

Severus scowled at that, because the ice cream had languished in the carton for weeks before he’d done the noble thing and finished it. “Says the man who cannot even remember to clean his hair from the bath drain-- an offense worth a further ten points, I would say.”

Harry sputtered at him in disbelief. “ _My_ hair? Any further points should be taken for blatant lies! _Your_ hair is black too, in case it hadn’t caught your notice, and much more likely to get caught in the drain at that length!” He reached out and gave the hair in question a firm tug, as if it were proof enough of his argument and not intended to drive Severus utterly mad.

More frequently than not the bickering ended the same way: Harry’s fingers twisted into his hair, hard lips knocking together, one of them nipping sharply and then gentling as one or both of them conceded the points of their disagreements, any points lost regained two-fold--at least on Harry’s part--as they repaid each other in pleasure.

~

By the time the official counter was introduced to their home, their increasingly odd habit of awarding each other house points for sexual (and non-sexual) favors had mounted to a veritable fever pitch, points awarded left and right for the most inane of day-to-day minutiae.

It had slipped outside their private affairs one day at dinner with the Weasleys. Harry had brought a plate of food out to Severus, who had been engaged in conversation in the garden. He had thanked Harry and then accidentally let slip “Five points to Gryffindor.” Of course after curious inquiries (from Arthur), flushed cheeks (adorably, from Harry), and an uncomfortably knowing look (shared between Ronald and the former Miss Granger, always too clever by half), they’d managed to pass off some excuse as a game they played at home about household chores. Household chores, _and nothing else_.

It probably shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it was, the owl that swept into the flat on Christmas morning, hooting churlishly at both of them. “Happy Christmas from Anonymous,” the tag read, and while Severus was wary of any gift-giver that didn’t identify themselves, Harry assured him that the wards would catch anything ill-intentioned. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but somehow it was when they opened the box and, lo and behold, found an accurate replica of the house points counter from Hogwarts, with only two slots: Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry suspected a Weasley, and he was probably correct, although Severus had the uneasy suspicion that evidence of their little game had slipped out during a visit with Minerva as well. 

“Ridiculous,” said Severus.

“There’s no way we’re actually putting this up,” said Harry.

It was installed on the bedroom wall by the next morning.

~

The emerald green and ruby red beads representing points that filled the counter moved frequently, barely more than a waking hour went by before the clink of the gems going up or down could be heard. But most nights, somewhere between Harry pressing his cock slowly into Severus’ body, the teasingly torturous rolling thrusts of his hips, and the hot breath of Harry’s voice in his ear whispering small praises that left Severus shivering, the counter was forgotten.

It was just as well--house point awards were beginning to make no sense whatsoever as the days went on. Fucking Harry into the mattress apparently got him twelve points; passionate, lingering kisses awarded him thirty six; and pushing Harry up against the wall, tearing down his trousers and sucking his cock like his life depended on it got him a bizarre twenty three and a half points, which the running counter apparently decided to just round up.

He began to adjust his own point totals in the same haphazard manner. Although, he was still not quite able to prevent moaning out house points at all, at least he was able to control assigning the same random values for this or that action. Harry earned seventeen and three quarters points when Severus woke up one morning with his cock engulfed in the wet heat of Harry’s mouth, but the same activity later that day under the kitchen table was only worth seven and three eighths. 

“That was worth more this morning!” Harry’s cheeks were flushed as he slid into sight from beneath the table, still kneeling between Severus’ legs, hands grasping at his waist, and something pleasant curled in the depths of Severus’ stomach as he considered the accusation being leveled at him.

“Mmm,” he hummed dispassionately. “This morning was much more surprising than this afternoon. I had to give you points for spontaneity.” The two occasions were equally breathtaking, of course, but he couldn’t allow himself to give an inch in the battle, when Harry was winning the war. He had his pride, after all.

Pride being what it was, of course, it was easy to see from the outside that they were on a dangerous path. Although Severus and Harry were both having phenomenal sex at near constant levels, the point system game was beginning to wear thin. The counter became more of a point of contention than anything else in their lives, with accusations being thrown back and forth about whether they valued this or that act becoming deeper arguments about whether or not they valued _each other_.

On one day, several months after they first began this little game, Harry’s aggravated reaction to the points did not go in the expected direction. Where they typically had a bit of a tussle back and forth that ended with both of them clawing at each other, tongues in each others mouths and furtively fumbling to the bedroom, this time Harry did not reach out for Severus, but reached out for his cloak instead.

“I’m going for a walk,” he huffed angrily and stormed out the front door.

Severus’ stomach clenched tightly as he watched the door slam shut behind Harry, and he sighed in dismay. Clearly Harry wasn’t having fun with their little game any longer. Perhaps, Severus thought worriedly, Harry wasn’t having fun being with _him_ anymore either.

~

The tension in the air of their cozy flat crackled between them like electricity. Severus was on a razor’s edge for two days, watching, worrying, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He ruined three calming draughts in a row when he attempted to brew something to relax them--himself through the process, the potion itself for Harry. He tried to take some comfort in the knowledge that they both seemed to be feeling the anxiety of this interruption in their--it had been months, surely it was safe to call it a relationship now, and _yet_ \--association, but mostly he imagined that their discomfort stemmed from different sources. His own at the looming end of the best thing he’s ever experienced and Harry’s at having to figure out how to extricate himself from the mess that is the very core of Severus.

He was imagining how it would begin-- “Severus, we should talk.”--when he ruined a fourth potion and realized that he was out of ingredients required to make any further attempts. He reached out, pressed his hand to the hot iron of the cauldron’s side and shoved it over onto the stone floor of the brewing room with a snarl of anger, for lack of any better outlet. “ _Damn!_ ”

“Severus?” Harry’s voice drifted in from the doorway and icy anticipation sliced through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing helplessly that magic could turn back time in some way that wasn’t just rescuing convicted felons from their own stupid mistakes, but it had never worked that way for _him_. 

“What--your hand is burned!” 

Harry’s voice sounded almost impossibly young, but the hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the mess of his laboratory and guiding him hurriedly down the hall into the kitchen was large and warm. “Sit here, I’ll get the first aid supplies.”

Neither of them spoke as Harry carefully smoothed the burn salve onto his palm and gently wrapped his hand in bandages. Severus took in slow, deep breaths--tried to will the moment to last forever, tried to memorize Harry’s scent so that he might always have the memory of it to return to, he wasn’t sure which. Eventually, however, his hand is bandaged and the two of them are standing so closely together that it hurts Severus to think he’s not allowed to touch, and the moment must end.

“Thank you, I--” he shook his head, there was nothing he could say, no excuses to be made. Harry is not a child, has made his own decisions before Severus and will continue to do so long after. “Thank you.”

He didn’t mean his hand, this time. It was a different sort of thanks, the gratitude of having been allowed to share this thing between them, of having been able to bask in Harry’s kindness, for however short a time. Harry’s brow furrowed and his gaze shifted searchingly over Severus’ face for a long moment. Severus tried to steel himself for what he knew was coming. Instead, as usual, Harry surprises him.

He’s prepared, or so he tells himself, for the gentle letdown--of course Harry would be gentle--, the heartfelt goodbye. What he gets, instead, is the feather light brush of lips against his own, Harry’s hand braced gently over Severus’ chest. 

“C’mon. If you lay down on the couch I can rub your back.” Harry’s lips quirked into a smile as his eyes traveled over Severus’ face again. “I think we could both use it.”

Bewildered, Severus allowed himself to be led to the couch and pressed down, the tension that had been building through him suddenly rushing out with the warm press of Harry’s hands through his robes. The slide of fingers between his shoulder blades and down his spine was slow and firm, muscles tightening and relaxing in turn at the knowledgeable direction of Harry’s touches. Severus’ head felt as if it were going to float away between the pleasure and confusion. Still, he had no intention of protesting any extension of time that Harry granted him.

Severus sighed contentedly. "Mmm...twenty points--"

"Oh, hush," interrupted Harry, silencing him with a quick kiss. "We're not doing points for me taking care of you."

Severus shifted on the couch, away from Harry’s hands, but only long enough to tug him down against his chest, considering the idea that Harry even _wanted_ to take care of him. “Why would you want to, if not for points.” His befuddled brain pointed out that even points weren’t a decent reason, considering they were, essentially, worthless, and Severus gave a slight wince.

“Why would you want to-- I mean--” He was half-asleep and groggy with pleasure with no idea as to how to finish the sentence. Fortunately for him, a warm press of lips to his own cut him off and then those same lips trailed upwards, ending their journey at his hairline. Against him, Harry took a shuddering breath and he felt the shift of his muscles under his hands as if Harry was squaring his shoulders against some unseen foe. Arms snaked their way around Severus and gave a firm squeeze.

“Because I love you.”

“Ah. That’s all right, then.” His eyes slipped closed, another contented sigh escaping him. For a moment everything was right again with the world. And then his brain--his treacherous, pleasure-soaked brain, the same creature that had gotten him into this house points mess to begin with--decided to take over his mouth.

“Marry me.”

Harry inhaled sharply in surprise and then let out a gentle laugh, pressing his nose close to Severus’ cheek before he could even manage to work up a panic at what he’d said.

"A thousand points to Slytherin," he whispered into Severus' ear.


End file.
